


Forever Can Never Be Long Enough

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Series: I Know I'm Supposed to Love You [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco being optimistic, HP Drizzle Fest 2016, M/M, Things Go Wrong, kid being cute, screwball comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: Draco has planned this picnic to the tiniest detail, because it has to be perfect. He and Harry and their son Scorpius will never forget this special day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [HP Drizzle Fest 2016](http://hp-drizzle.livejournal.com/71188.html) . Check out the other awesome fics and art!
> 
> the hugest of thanks to Crowgirl and ElizaJane for their patient betaing and support!

“Do you have the box, Papa?”

Draco stopped short in the doorway, his arms filled with a squirming Scorpius, whose arms were filled with a squirming Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny Kitty and a silent Mr. Bunny. Harry bumped into Draco’s back, the wicker picnic hamper smacking into the bare crease of Draco’s knees.

“Merlin’s saggy left tit, Potter, that hurt.” Draco allowed Scorpius to slide out of his arms and down his body, before he rubbed the area that would absolutely bruise. This was exactly why he never wore shorts, even if Harry and Scorpius teased him mercilessly about wearing trousers in the middle of July.

He glared at Harry who smiled innocently. “I’ll kiss it and make it all better later,” Harry whispered in Draco’s ear before he leaned it for a quick peck.

Draco sighed with a smile. Today would be a perfect day. An absolutely perfect day. He brushed his nose against Harry’s, willing the world to wait a second longer before intruding. To enjoy this moment, just the two of them…

“What’s a tit, Papa?” Scorpius asked, hunched over the cat who wasn’t quite hissing. Yet.

Harry’s laughter tickled Draco’s lips and there was nothing he could do now to recapture that mood. Fatherhood didn’t stop for romantic kisses that promised much more; they both knew that. Draco brushed his lips against the tip of Harry’s nose. “Promise me.”

The screech of sellotape unspooling cut the conversation. Draco shook his head as he crouched down. For a six-year-old, Scorpius moved fast; with one hand he held the cat in place with the stuffed bunny balanced on its back and in the other was an arm’s length of tape.

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy! What are you—” Draco wrestled the sticky tape away from the cat’s fur and stuck it against the first surface he hit behind him.

“Malfoy, that’s my leg!” Harry turned away from Draco who reached in undo his mistake. “Noooo, that is stuck to my leg hair. No way you’re yanking that off.”

Draco stood and took a breath to steady his temper. “Stinger, we don’t tape things to the cat. We just—don’t.”

Scorpius let go of the cat, who bolted into the tight space between the couch and the wall. He picked up Mr. Bunny and examined him for bruises and breaks. “But Daddy said—”

Harry said. Of course. Draco’s laughter bubbled up and he felt light and carefree, like champagne is in his veins. 

Dammit. He’d forgotten to pack the champagne in the picnic basket; it was still hiding in the the refrigerator. He’d have to make an excuse to sneak into the kitchen. 

“Everybody ready to have a good time?” Harry asked, turning to Draco and stroking his finger over the worry lines on Draco’s forehead.

Draco closed his eyes and as he leaned into the small touch, he felt the worry slip away. Scorpius hugged Mr. Bunny closer and squealed when Draco picked him up with a bear hug and kissed his temple. Now was Draco’s chance.

"Darn it. I forgot something. Here you take Stinger--" Draco strung the words together hoping Harry wouldn't suspect he was lying as he shoved a squirmy Scorpius into Harry’s arms. “I'll just be a tick.”

He grabbed the picnic basket and left Harry to kiss-tickle Scorpius. The kitchen’s squeaky swinging door would hide his movements, and once Draco hid the bottle in the basket, he patted the pocket of his shorts and felt the small box still there. Safe where he had placed it. 

With giddy anticipation and a grin, Draco pushed through the kitchen door. Harry held Scorpius as if he were an infant, the shirt rucked up over Scorpius’ belly. “Shhh, don't tell Daddy what we were talking about,” Harry teased before he blew another kiss onto Scorpius’ stomach. 

Draco kissed Harry’s cheek then Scorpius’ tummy. “As if either of you could keep a secret from me.” He held the door open for Harry, who was explaining the rules of rugby to Scorpius while holding him like a rugby ball. Before Draco could close the door, BunnyKitty dashed between his legs and out the door. Draco hopped from one foot to the other while trying not to stomp on the fool cat or spill the food he’d arranged in the basket. He bit back a stream of curses; nothing would ruin this day. It would be a memory they’d cherish forever. 

He ushered them to the gardens behind their new home, built on the Malfoy land. He’d secretly scouted different locations in the garden, looking for the perfect amount of sunshine (not enough to blind them; just enough to be warm) and shade (not enough to be chilly; just enough to leave a classic, leaf-dappled pattern on their blanket).

Draco unfurled the picnic blanket and with his wand, weighed the corners to hold it in place. As he set out the family china and crystal, he peeked at Harry and Scorpius wrestling on the grass. It seemed that Harry had given up the rugby explanation and had moved on to wrestling holds. Harry lay flat on his back with Scorpius’ hands around his neck, plush Mr. Bunny protecting Scorpius’ flank. 

So, wrestling was going as well as rugby. Draco chuckled wondering how long before Harry broke something or suffered irreparable damage--to his ego. Draco shaped his hands around his mouth and called out. “As soon as you take him down, Stinger, we can eat.” 

With the mention of food, Scorpius jumped and landed on Harry’s stomach, his full weight focused on the two tiny knees that ground painfully into Harry’s bottom ribs. “I win!” Scorpius scrambled off, his heels crushing Harry’s fingers before working himself upright and over to the blanket. 

Harry gasped and grunted, breathing through the pain. “How can someone do so much with so little?” Harry asked as he hobbled to Draco, alternating between shaking his fingers and rubbing his ribs. He folded himself down on the edge of the blanket.

Draco kept his head down, passing out the Wedgwood plates and definitely not laughing. “Here you go, Scorpius.” Draco handed him a full size plate for Scorpius and a smaller plate for Mr. Bunny, who was nestled next to him on the blanket. 

“Yay! It’s peanut butter and strawberry jam. Daddy’s favorite.” Scorpius squeezed his eyes closed and held the sandwich tight as he took the biggest mouthful he could manage. 

Jam seeped from between the slices and dropped toward his shirt. Harry, one hand grabbing the plate Draco had handed him and the other pulling his wand from his back pocket, sent the jam back into the sandwich. Draco mouthed a silent _thank you_ to Harry. 

He knew Harry would think it meant saving Scorpius’ shirt. But it wasn’t that at all. It meant--thank you for coming back to us. Thank you for loving us. Thank you for being perfect, for making my heart jump when you speak, for missing me when you’re not here. 

The box in his pocket would hopefully help him say some of those things. Soon. Over dessert and champagne. Draco swallowed back his giddiness and gestured with one of the carrot sticks from his own plate. “I don’t know about Daddy’s favorite, but it’s definitely yours.”

While something in the distance caught Scorpius’ attention, Harry tapped Draco’s hand. Sure Scorpius wouldn’t notice him, Harry crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. PB&J was most definitely not Harry’s favorite, but he would never admit it. 

“I spy with my little eye, a black bear!” Scorpius dragged a carrot stick through a blop of jam on his plate. 

“Not around here, sport.” Harry handed Scorpius a napkin. “Black bears are only in the States.”

“No, Daddy. Look.” Scorpius pointed to the sky. One dark, black cloud. Definitely shaped like a bear,

“The wireless said zero percent chance of rain today, love.” Draco kept his voice steady but his mind raced with possibilities of torrential rain, lightning strikes, cracking thunder that would frighten Scorpius until he shrieked with fear. 

Draco counted to 10 and reminded himself that Wizard forecasters were nearly always right. Zero percent chance. The clouds would pass and today would be perfect. The blue sky would be back any moment now. Instead of worrying, Draco poured grape juice into the three crystal goblets. 

“Do baby birds eat peanut butter, Papa?” Scorpius asked before he took a sip of juice. 

“No. Worms and bugs. Why?” 

“Because I think that bird just needs some food and he’ll feel better.” Scorpius pointed to their cat, who’d dropped a clearly dead bird near their picnic. “I think that’s why Mr. Bunny Kitty brought the baby to us. So we could make him feel better.”

Silently, Draco chanted “OhNoNoNoNoNo” against the buzzing in his ears that always preceded becoming ill. He felt the burn rise in his throat, but he willed it back down. That poor baby bird. 

BunnyKitty sat next to its kill, grooming proudly as Harry unfolded himself and stood up. “Let me go see how the bird is doing.” He gingerly nudged the carcass and banished it with his wand before returning to the picnic. “I’m sorry, buddy. The bird was already dead.” Harry brushed his hand over Scorpius’ hair. Scorpius nodded thoughtfully with a sad smile. 

Draco dropped his forehead into his palm. _Salazar Slytherin! What else could go wrong?_ “Go play for a little bit while I clean up the lunch,” Draco suggested to Scorpius, who jumped up with a cheer, grabbed his plushie by the arm, and ran off.

“He doesn’t do anything halfway, does he?” Harry asked with a grin as he watched Scorpius chase their cat. “He’s got two settings: full on and dead asleep.”

Draco smiled and reached into the basket and withdrew a gorgeous treacle tart from Harry’s favorite bakery and laid it in the center of the blanket. The noise Harry made was absolutely filthy, which was exactly what Draco’d hoped for. Next, he brought out the bottle of French champagne. 

“Special occasion?” Harry asked, tilting his head and watching Draco unwrap the foil and untwist the muselet from the bottle.

“The most special,” Draco said, his heart beating wildly as he tried to remember the speech he’d written out, memorized, and practiced. “Because you’re the most special.” He smiled shyly, unused to displays of emotion that didn’t include the word _idiot, fuckhead,_ or _Potter._

Draco positioned his thumbs to pop the cork from the bottle, hoping the champagne wouldn’t cascade. 

Scorpius called for them, his tone somewhere between abject terror and joyful enthusiasm. Harry turned toward Scorpius; Draco turned, but his hands had committed to the cork, which flew out of the bottle with 20 years’ worth of pressure, rocketing into Harry’s left cheekbone, definitely shattering his glasses and possibly shattering the bone. 

And the black-bear cloud opened, drenching them and proving the forecasters wrong. 

In a whirlwind, Scorpius charged back to his parents, shrieking about possible death by lightning and landing in Draco’s lap. He buried his face in Draco’s chest, wrapping his arms around his father. BunnyKitty, drenched and fiercely angry, launched himself at Harry, expecting love and understanding. His pin-sharp claws sliced into Harry’s bare thigh, which at least took Harry’s mind from his swelling face.

Scorpius’ head moved as Draco’s shoulders shook. “Papa, are you crying?” He raised his voice to be heard over the tap tap tap of the rain falling through the leaves and hitting their plates. 

Draco’s perfect plans were ruined. The tart had a footprint in the middle of it. The champagne drained onto the blanket, knocked over by someone. They were drenched, war-wounded, and his romantic proposal was gone, baby, gone. 

“Papa?” Scorpius pulled his face away and looked up at Draco. “Are you okay?”

Harry reached over and took Draco’s hand in his. “Hey. Answer us.”

Sometimes, there’s a fine line between sobbing and laughing. 

“I planned this picnic,” Draco said between gasps of silent laughter, “down to the tiniest detail. The spot. The food. I checked the weather every 10 minutes. I wanted this to be perfect. I wanted us to remember this forever.”

Draco wiped his face and caught his breath. He kissed Scorpius’ forehead and then moved him from his lap to the soaked blanket between his two fathers. Draco looked at Harry, whose wide eyes clearly said that Draco had lost his mind.

Draco felt his heart flitting around in his chest like a bird, caged and frightened. But Draco wasn’t afraid because it was Harry. It had always been Harry. 

“Merlin help me, Potter, but I love you. Every minute of you. Every inch of you. And for some reason, I can’t get enough of you.” Draco slid his hand into his pocket and brought out the small box. 

He thought he heard Harry gasp, which could have been from the ribboned slices on his legs. Or the rumble boom of the thunder overhead. 

Or. 

Draco held his breath and hoped that would slow his heart and reminded himself that, if Harry said no, they’d always be united as Scorpius’ parents. 

Harry, with his eye bruised and starting to swell, with tiny drops of blood on his thigh from the razor claws, with his hair wet and dripping onto his soaked clothes, said nothing. He slowly removed the fractured glasses from his nose and placed them on the blanket. When he moved, he scooted across the blanket and plowed through the tart. For the tiniest second, Draco cringed that his beautiful lemon sugar filling was oozing between Harry’s fingers. Harry cupped Draco’s face in his gooey hands and leaned his forehead against Draco’s. 

“You smell delicious,” Draco said, hiccupping with nervous laughter. He flicked his tongue against Harry’s thumb that was caressing his lip. “Taste pretty good, too.” 

Harry still hadn’t answered, and Draco searched his eyes for a hint. Something.

“Papa, what’s in the box?” Scorpius wiggled his way into the space between his fathers’ bodies. “No one opened it. Can I open it?”

Draco leaned forward and kissed Harry, a small, simple kiss. “It’s for your Daddy.” He slipped Harry’s hand from his cheek and pressed the box into it.

Harry’s voice was thick when he spoke. “Stinger, I can’t see anything without my glasses. Will you open it and tell me what it is?”

Scorpius tumbled out from between them and sat, bouncing next to them. “I wonder what it is!” He opened the box, which seemed huge in his small hands. 

“This is boring.” Scorpius pushed the box at Harry, hoping to get his Daddy’s attention. “It’s just an old ring. I thought it might have been treasure or you know, something good.” With that, he jumped up and followed BunnyKitty out into the field to play in the wet grass, the rain having stopped as suddenly as it started. 

“Did you mean to ask me something, Malfoy?” Harry asked, looking at the the box in his palm. His voice wavered as he curled his fingers around the velvet.

“Scorpius wasn’t exactly right.” Draco took the box from Harry and removed the gold band. “There is a treasure, but it’s not the ring.” He cleaned Harry’s left hand, wiped between the fingers and then kissed each fingertip. “ _You’re_ the treasure,” Draco whispered, his voice loud without the rain and thunder. 

“Wow. That sounded better in my head.” Draco snickered first, then broke into full-on laughter. For the first time that day, he felt like himself--not pretending to be fancy or romantic or anything except Draco and Harry. He looked out into the opening and watched Scorpius imitate the cat, who was stalking something. Merlin, this life was perfect the way it is. “Listen, Potter. Since you’re stuck with me, I thought we might as well make it official.”

He held Harry’s palm on his and hovered at the tip of the finger with the ring, waiting for Harry’s answer. 

“Might as well.” Harry’s tone was put-upon, but his teasing meant the moment was too important, too solemn to be serious. “No one else has asked me today.”

Draco slid the ring over the knuckles to the base of Harry’s finger, a tight fit and slick from the treacle.

“I really wish I could see your face,” Harry laughed as he brought his hands back to Draco’s face, searching for Draco’s lips. 

Draco reached behind Harry and tugged the wand from Harry’s back pocket. He cast an exasperated _Oculus Reparo_ at the glasses and then placed them on Harry’s nose, gently sliding the wire arms over Harry’s ear. 

“Hey,” Harry said, blinking at Draco as his eyes adjusted to the lenses. “Look who it is. My fiance.” He smiled, soft and happy, and it looked like he was seeing Draco for the first time in days. 

For a moment, Draco considered making a throw-away quip, lik _Where?_ Or _I hope he doesn’t see me_. But the moment seemed too heavy with meaning. Instead, he caressed Harry’s cheek, avoiding the tender area. “You’re going to look like an idiot when your eye turns Slytherin green.”

“Yeah, but it’ll look good on me,” Harry grinned, before Draco could respond, Scorpius skipped over to them and collapsed onto the blanket with the kitten following suit. 

Scorpius rolled onto his tummy and dangled his feet in the air; BunnyKitty curled up in the small of Scorpius’ back and fell asleep. “Papa, guess what? This was the best picnic. Ever.” He gave them two thumbs up and an exaggerated wink before dissolving into giggles and burying his face in Mr. Bunny’s belly. 

“Yeah?” Draco lost himself in the sweet sound of their son’s laughter. He’d been so worried about making the picnic perfect that he’d forgotten to enjoy it, bad luck and all. 

“Absolutely.” Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s. “I’ll remember every single moment.”

“Even with all the mishaps?” Draco waited for Harry’s response, validating that it wasn't all horrible. 

“What mishaps?” Now that he could see, Harry retrieved his wand and cast an _Episky_ on his cheek, mending the bones. “Haven't you heard? This is the best picnic. Ever.”


End file.
